


The Roots of Balance

by nagemeikenu



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagemeikenu/pseuds/nagemeikenu
Summary: The Avatar has had three lifetimes: the first as a Fire Bender, the second as an Air Bender, and the third as a Water Bender. Some predict the Avatar will appear again in the newly established Earth Kingdom to complete the cycle, and some are reticent to believe the Avatar will return at all. Some wonder if this will be the last Avatar's life, some wonder how the Avatar will arise in this life. All are wondering what the Avatar's role will be.First, the Avatar has to show themselves for who they are. In this life, however, that may be the most dangerous thing to do.





	The Roots of Balance

The fire was banked low, but I study the flickers of light anyway. The summer night is too warm for a fire, but I cannot remember a time when there were no flames in this hearth. A smile sparks on my lips, just before I hear a smoky voice say, “Bed time. It’s late enough.”  
“The sun went down no more than an hour ago,” the words spurt from my lips with a lift of laughter.  
“Then it’s time you set as well,” I hear the smirk.  
“As we wake with the sun,” a deeper voice slides into the fray, “we’ll have a long day ahead. There is much work to do tomorrow.” The old argument has been cut short, because I know those words to be truth. The harvest begins tomorrow, and the long days of summer are dwindling. Once autumn sets in, so do the days of preparing the earth for the cold of winter. Our farm is our life, and so will take effort and work to move along.  
Standing, with one last look at the quietly simmering embers, I turn to my parents. Before I can say good night, I hear it. The thundering of footsteps disturbs the area so much, the birds have stopped their flirtations. My muscles tense, and the bangs on the old wooden door resound through the front room, sounding like the middle of a storm—violent and senseless. The fear makes me rigid, and no one moves to open the door to those that have made demands like whip lashes.  
“Open up in the name of the Earth King!”  
All I know of this king is that the newly formed kingdom resisted to his rule as mere token grumblings, and the descendants have let the family continue ruling with more apathy than approval. This king is the third, and his rule has not been one of peace. Even I, though my parents would rather I remain ignorant, know that the benders in this world have been chased to the ends of the earth, made ghosts in their homelands, and their children made orphans. The strange species of people that can control an element, according to the Earth King, must be stopped. They are dangerous—especially fire benders. Who can trust those with the ability to destroy all in their paths with but a breath?  
“Open up in the name of the Earth King, or force our hands!” Like a spell has been lifted, my father turned and made his way to the door.  
“We welcome you,” his voice declares it in a fierce strike, the lightening to their thunder. The door is thrown open as if to punctuate his statement. In step five uniformed men, wearing the armor and symbol of the Earth Kingdom. I stand as a stone, erect and unwavering. I will not show my fear. My mother does not show fear. My father has his chin jutted upwards towards the mountain of a soldier who led the invasion into our haven.  
“Are you the family of Eldri?” demands the leader.  
“We are,” my father answers, unwavering and clear.  
“Then, we find you guilty of being Fire-benders, and must take you to Ba Singh Se for trial.”  
The air feels so cold—what happened to the fire in the hearth? I know my fear is on my face.  
“We are no Fire-benders,” Father denies it after the silence chills me to the bone.  
“We are mere farmers,” Mother asserts.  
“There are no Fire-benders in the Earth Kingdom,” I squeak, “right?”  
“They are dangerous,” my father turns to me with a soothing voice, “but that is right. There are no Fire-benders native to the Earth Kingdom.”  
“I am pleased you brought that up,” the guard’s smile sharpens, and my father turns to him.  
“Oh?” is his only response.  
“You and your family do not come from the Earth Kingdom,” the sentence hangs like an icicle on a branch, “you came here from the Fire Nation.”  
“As is documented,” my mother notes, “we came here to get away from the dangerous benders. We came here for a new life! We have left everything behind. We are no Fire-benders.”  
“It is what the identification documents said,” one of the soldiers speaks, but is immediately silenced by a look from his peers.  
“None of us bend,” Father brings the attention back to himself, and a muscle in the leader’s cheek jumps.  
“You are a liar,” he says, “your neighbors have given testimony of your witchcraft. We know—even the girl bends.” Hearing the last part, my mother swiftly comes in front of me. I grasp her hand for comfort, but there is something in her palm. She squeezes it into my palm before letting my hand fall to my side, closed around the small object.  
“You will leave my daughter alone,” her tone heats the room like magma, slowly directing towards the mountain.  
“You three will be put to death for your crimes,” the leader’s hands start to move—my mother is trapped by one of the soldiers, his arms bound around her. She cranes her head towards me, and I am helpless, motionless.  
“Agh!” my father cries out, trapped by two of the men, unable to move his arms, unable to fight.  
“Azar, run! Hide in the forest!” my mother’s whispered pleas don’t settle in at first, but then I look at her face. “Go, now!”  
I stumble backwards, listening to the men shout at my father, my mother. There is nothing I can do—I hear my mother’s voice again.  
“Azar, run!”  
This time, I listen. Before the stone traps me, I am out the back door. I don’t look back. All I see are trees, all I hear is my breath exploding from my lungs and my frantically irregular footsteps until—  
BANG!  
I fall, and in the distance behind me are the echoes of flames, the golden, orange and white tongues rush to meet the sky.  
They’re gone.  
My mother, my father—  
Gone.  
Weeping doesn’t ease my heart. More walking through inconspicuous woods brings me no comfort, no warmth. I feel empty, cold, and tired. I am so tired. Where can I go? Does it matter? All I have is—  
A piece from a Pai Sho game, pressed into my palm so the edges of the piece have left an outline. It’s the White Lotus tile. Time and again my mother loved to play with my father, and at the end of their nights playing, they would make a White Lotus on the board, with this tile in the very center. They would smile at each other, and I would know just how deeply in love they are—were. My knees buckle, and I collapse into tears. Sooner or later, my fingers curled around the last thing my mother gave me, I fall asleep.  
When I wake, the sun filters through the leaves. As I rise up, I realize that I know where I am. Perhaps muscle memory took me here last night. This is the way I would go to the river. Along this way are berries, medicine plants, and fruit trees. Our land doesn’t stretch in this direction, but no one owns it. It’s just woods along the main road—  
The main road. I could get help! I could find someone, and explain…  
Explain what? That the Earth Kingdom Army came to my farm, and murdered my parents because of Fire-bending accusations? My stomach drops. They’ll be looking for me. I am wanted by the Earth Kingdom Army. I’m wanted dead. My body sags against a tree. What do I do?  
My gaze goes to the White Lotus tile. Mother, Father, what do I do?  
My hand closes around the game piece. I will go to the river, and follow it. That will give me access to food, and it will follow the main road—perhaps some travelers will take pity on a young girl traveling alone. If I don’t tell them who I am, just that I’m a homeless orphan, maybe they’ll help me. Maybe I can make a new life. But where? Where would it be safe for me? Where wouldn’t they look for me?  
“Then, we find you guilty of being Fire-benders, and must take you to Ba Singh Se for trial.”  
Ba Singh Se. They wouldn’t look for me there—and a nondescript young girl can easily hide in a new city. I’ve never been to any city. Mother and Father have said cities are dangerous, but lively—like fire. Maybe I’ll like it there. Maybe I can have a life there.  
But that’s what Mother and Father thought about coming here. I don’t remember the Fire Nation. Once I was born, Mother and Father made plans to leave. They wanted me to have a better life—will I? What kind of life could I have without them?  
My life. The answer comes to me at last. Mother told me to run, to hide. She wanted me to stay alive, to live my life. If I don’t, their sacrifice will be for nothing. I will go to the river, I decide, I will be careful. I will live a new life. It’s what they wanted. Until it is something I want, I will do it for them. I must.  
My feet take me to the river. I wash myself, my clothes, and keep a close eye on the surrounding trees and my White Lotus tile. Once my clothes and I are dry, I dress. The tile I slip into my pocket. Now what? I wonder. I run my fingers through my hair. It is so long—I remember saying so just a few nights ago. My mother says—said it is one of the most beautiful things about me. My father heard this, and smiled. “She gets it from me,” he claimed with a laugh. Again the pain hits me, but I do not weep this time. This time, I sharpen a rock to a knife. Using my reflection as a guide, and steeling myself, sheers of my hair fall into the water. I collect them, not ready to let this part of me go. Using the rock, I dig a hole next to the river and bury the long locks. All I really know is that it can stop someone from tracking me should they find it. The justification settles me, and I am left with my reflection. Dark eyes, pale skin, and now hair that curves up to my jawline. My simple clothes are nondescript enough, and the one feature that could separate me from the crowd is no longer there. Am I still me? I take a deep breath to steady myself, then collect fruits, berries, and herbs for my journey. I carry it in my arms, the scents mixing. It calms me. Soon I see the road. It is so easy for fear to grip a body and refuse to let go. I don’t know how long I stood, looking at the smoothed earth, clutching the armful of fruits and berries and herbs. When I felt able to step forward, I see no one. I take more steps feeling braver with each step. From what I know, Ba Singh Se is a two-day journey from the farm. I am already a half-day past the farm, and it is not yet midday. I can stop before nightfall, and give what I can in exchange for shelter. Emboldened by this plan, I begin my journey with my head up and arms relaxed around my “belongings”.  
Hours pass, but my energy does not flag. I am coming to a village, and there are a few travelers ahead. A small group of women and one young man. As I get closer, I can hear what they’re saying.  
“You don’t need to go back to the city, Saif,” the eldest woman says sternly, “you can have a home here.”  
“Grandmother, I need to make my own life,” the young man insists. I assume he is called Saif.  
“We miss your mother, too,” a younger woman says gently, touching his shoulder, “she was our sister, after all.”  
“You’re being a fool,” one of the women closest to me announces, “staying here is the most logical, safest path you could take—”  
“I need to do this,” the flat voice cuts through the beginning of her rant like a sword through the wind. I am now stopped, curious about it all. One of the women notices me. Immediately, I flush. Saif turns to me, the green eyes pinning me to the spot.  
“Who are you?” he demands, stepping towards me. Now I notice the sword at his waist. I panic.  
“I-I s-so-sorry,” my stutters barely leave my mouth as he approaches me.  
“What is your name?” his impatience makes the air simmer.  
“A-I’m Ra-Rian,” I manage, and he looks exasperated.  
“What?” I take a breath.  
“I’m Rian,” my voice is finally steady enough to be understood.  
“Where are you going?” the interrogation continues. My heart is racing.  
“I’m going to Ba Singh Se,” I tell him. He considers me for a moment.  
“Why?”  
“I…” my gaze goes towards the ground, “I’m an orphan. I have nowhere else to go—I, I thought if I went to the city…” my voice trails off.  
“You lost your parents?” his voice softens considerably. That much is true, and the truth hurts. I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears as I nod.  
“I lost my mother a month ago,” he shares, and I look up.  
“I’m sorry,” I say, tears slipping down my cheeks. His green eyes are no longer hard, but gentle and kind while he nods his thanks.  
“You don’t have to go to the city, child,” the gentle woman comes forward, “you are alone in this dangerous world. Stay with us and Saif.”  
“If Saif stays,” mutters the eldest woman.  
“I will stay for a time,” he relents, “so that Rian can get used to our village.”  
“I…I can stay with you?” I can’t quite believe it.  
“Yes,” the woman who was lecturing Saif speaks up again, “come with us, child, and we’ll see what you’re carrying there.” Saif puts his arm around my shoulders, and we all go to the small stone building, with a hay thatch roof.  
Once inside, I am given water and voices clash over each other. Saif and two of the women disappear the lecturer and the silent one, while I am left with the eldest woman and the gentle one. The fruits, berries and herbs I was carrying are now spread on the table.  
“Quite a collection,” the grandmother notes, pleased with my offerings.  
“Most of these herbs can be used for healing,” observes Min, “we’ll dry them and make some balms and poultices. You know plants well.” The compliment brings warmth to my cheeks, and I thank her.  
“My family had a farm. I love growing things.” My smile falls away.  
“What happened to them, Rian?”  
“Earth Kingdom soldiers came,” I whisper without realizing.  
“Soldiers,” Min’s usually gentle demeanor hardens, “soldiers took away my sister, too. There is no love for them in this house.”  
My body relaxes. The grandmother is not satisfied.  
“Why did they come, child?”  
“They…” I take a breath, “they believed my family were benders.” Silence comes over the room.  
My tears start to flow freely as I try to explain, “my parents didn’t bend! They were wrong! They…they told me to run and hide. So, I did. The last thing I saw was flames climbing into the sky.” I am curled into a ball, weeping. Arms encircle me, a soft voice soothing my pain. Once I stop crying, I realize that Grandmother is the one holding me, and Min has left the room.  
“You are safe,” she tells me, “we will not let anyone hurt you. Saif will protect you.”  
“Thank you,” I lean into her, grateful to have a new haven. I’m not alone anymore.


End file.
